hadriel | 01

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01 | voice

Hey, gang! Hope some of you didn't get maimed-slash-dismembered over the last couple weeks. [stated as breezily as ever, way to go lilith.]

Got a PSA for you all. I know alcohol sounds pretty great, especially after the wendigo crap, but don't drink the stuff in the restaurants without checking it first. I got lucky with the first one I tried-- sorta tasted like a fruit cocktail kind of thing-- but one time a bottle got knocked out of my hands and it dissolved through the floor. So, uh. Yeah.

Also, does anybody else have guns around here? Are you restocking your ammo at all or are you just... rationing it out? I've been trying to look around the armory but every weapon there's of the stabby variety. That's great and all, but you can't shoot swords out of a shotgun.

[... no one tell her.]

That's it for now. Lilith, out.

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State the location where you found the

acid.

I could take you. I doubt I could find the exact bottle again without some trial and error smashing, but it's close-ish to one of the house spires. Why?

[Lilith? Eager? No way.]

D'you wanna do something with it?

[...okay, maybe just a bit eager.]

Could make weapons. Will meet you. State location.

[If the texts seem a bit terse, well. You can probably guess why.]

Thought so. You're a woman after my own heart.

[Lilith, on the other hand, isn't quite as filled in on the situation, and it takes a quick re-read of the message to actually pick up on it. She sends a quick text description of the location before broaching the topic.]

You all right, Maketh?

[Maketh sees the later text, but decides to pretend that she didn't. Instead she just puts on her coat and walks over the location that Lilith shared. She's careful to make herself presentable beforehand, because there are certain standards that must be kept and Maketh has been - lax. Lately. So she dusts off her boots, checks the lines of her hair, and the cool set of her face before leaving. Her uniform is fucking perfect.

However, someone might notice that her face is much paler than usual, eyes a bit splotchy even though she was certainly not crying, and that the sword she's wearing on her belt isn't the same one she got from the armory not too long ago. That one's still stuck in a table where she left it, in that half-burnt apartment where she died.

She's certainly not thinking about that, either. It was a good sword. She's going to do better this time, much better, there will be no mistakes.

She snaps to attention when she spots Lilith, though doesn't salute her.] Lilith.

[The stiff greeting catches her off-guard.] Maketh.

[There’s a nod of acknowledgment and a half-hearted wave: unintentional, but in the spirit of an at ease, regardless. Why hadn't she answered her earlier? Looking for some sort of hint, Lilith regards the crisp edges of Maketh’s—well, Maketh’s everything. She’s as put together as she usually is, but there’s something in that formality and that look in her face that makes everything ring, oddly, false. Composed. Then she spots the new sword.

So… something had happened.

What, exactly, does one do in this situation? Lilith’s sharp, powerful, but she’s never been known for her emotional intelligence. She chews the inside of her lower lip and opens her mouth to speak. She’s determined to ignore it, as Maketh clearly means to do.]

You look— um. You… ironed.

[Great.]

Let’s just get the thing. The acid.

[She did, in fact, spend almost an hour ironing her clothes. Unfortunately she couldn't find a ruler to check the hem length of her shirt, but Maketh has been doing it for long enough that she can measure it blind.]

Thank you.

[It's probably not a compliment. Maketh decides to take it as one anyway. She's been too relaxed with these people, too civilian. It will ruin her if she keeps it up any longer. She nods to Lilith, still standing at attention. Focus on work. You have a job, soldier. Get it done.] Show me.

[Taking the flimsy compliment instead of picking it out for the deflection she’d intended it to be is a far better outcome than Lilith had been hoping for. She’ll take the win for what small relief it’s worth.] Right. [Lilith moves aside and walks ahead of Maketh, glancing back at the woman over her shoulder—- still there, still standing reed-straight and stony-faced. She snaps her gaze right back to the front and clears her throat.

She doesn’t really know what to say. So, as usual, she’ll simply keep moving.]

This isn’t the only building with bottles like that acid I found, [Lilith explains, having stepped forward to hold the door open for Maketh,] but it’s the one I found that particular one in.

[It’s got some too-short tables and too-tall chairs, and a counter that might’ve at one point been a bar: all along the walls are an array of bright bottles filled with liquids of all colors.]

That particular bottle was green. Dunno if there are any more.

[Maketh follows, pulling a notebook and pen out of her coat. It would be much easier with a data pad - she's missing that more than any other bit of tech these days - but needs must. And she will endure.] Did it have any label or markings?

[There are a lot of bottles up here on the wall. Maketh raises an eyebrow.] They can't all be acid, can they?

[That would be a shame. Everyone loves booze.]

Nothing that I'd be able to point out on sight. Sorry. But it was definitely green.

[Lilith meanders over to the wall, searching, before she takes one off the wall, smiling.]

They're not: this one, I'm pretty sure, was the one I drank last time. Though we might wanna test it, just in case I'm wrong: don't want us to get dissolved just for a drink.

[So all they have to go on is 'green'. Maketh eyes the wall up and down. There must be a dozen green bottles. That's going to take a long time to work through.

She smiles a little at Lilith, though. Just a little.] No, I imagine that would be unpleasant. Could you tell what kind of alcohol it was?

[She shakes her head.]

I doubt any of this is normal liquor, but it almost tasted like it? Smooth and a little sweet like the fancy crap they used to sell for an arm and a leg on Dionysus, but kicks like the poison a Psycho would try to pawn off on you on Pandora.

[She'd tried it with Mordecai once. She's still trying to figure out whether it was a good or a bad life choice.]

It didn't liquefy me, so it's a start, at least.

[Maketh considers that. She's not picky when it comes to alcohol. True, she'd much prefer something decent - brandy, for instance - but she could compromise.] It's a start. Better than moonshine, at least.

[That stuff would probably liquefy your insides just as fast as the acid.]

Welp. We've either got a drink or a weapon, here, sooo... [The bottle hasn't got a cork on it-- rather, it's a screw cap-- so Lilith opens it without much ado and peers tentatively into the neck of the bottle from. Doesn't smell weird, isn't currently burning her eyes out: things are looking fairly positive.

She glances away her very scientific examination of the wine/poison and back up at Maketh.]

I'm about... 70% sure that this is just booze. I think. We could try to get a monster to drink a bunch of these to tell 'em all apart? See which one kills it?

That would take too long. [And assumes that the monsters are intelligent enough to understand the purpose of bottles in the first place. Maketh frowns, then begins unbuckling her belt. She sets the sword and sheath down on the counter.] If it burns this, it's a weapon.

[If not, it's probably booze. Probably.]

[The weapons clatter onto the bar, and Lilith frowns, too. The new equipment's momentarily reminded her of... whatever unknown thing had gone down over the last few weeks, and how she's taking steps to ignore it as long as she can.

Push it away, Lilith. Back to the mysterious liquid.] You sure? This stuff looks brand new. As brand new as you can get down here. Don't wanna ruin it if you've only just got it. What about your old one?

[Weapons should always be kept in tip-top shape. It's an innocent enough question in her head; it doesn't occur to her how loaded it could possibly be until the words have already left Lilith's lips.]

Um-- shit.

Do you think I'm a fool? [It comes out much sharper than intended. Maketh's eyes are hard, tone punishing. She jerks her belt free from the sheath.] Do I look like someone who would waste resources? Burn the damn belt.

[The sudden coldness nearly startles her, so, naturally, Lilith snaps right back, frustrated and on the defensive at last.]

You're no fool, but you are acting like a real asshole! [She returns Maketh's harsh look, and her tattoos briefly flicker the same color as her eyes as soon as her voice hitches in volume.] What the hell is your problem?

[She doesn't break eye contact until after she's splashed some of the liquid on the belt: it begins to bubble after several seconds, though it's not especially clear whether it's eating at the leather or if it'd simply been.]

There, I ruined your goddamn belt.

[The flash of color is cause for concern. She remembers it from when Lilith first demonstrated her power. Now she's flexing. Reminding everyone what she can do, as if Maketh could ever forget.

Maketh holds her ground, face going hard.] Show off to someone who cares. I'm going to test the rest of them.

[Every goddamn bottle if she has to.]

Oh, screw you.

[But she doesn't leave. Instead, Lilith's still at Maketh's heels, a little more of the bubbly drink in her hand sloshing over the lip when she gestures accusingly at her with it.]

I'll ask you again. What the hell is your problem? I'm trying to help, and you're acting like-- like some kind of Admiral Tightwad, I don't know! Even when you texted me earlier.

Edited 2016-03-10 01:34 (UTC)

[Some of the bottles have very odd shapes, almost like the beakers one might find in a lab. Exactly none of them are labeled in a way that Maketh can understand. Wonderful. That's just fucking wonderful. Much like this situation, really. She breathes out through her nose, turning to glare at Lilith.] My conduct is perfectly acceptable!

[She'd made mistakes earlier, been friendly with everyone when she should have been focused on doing her job and only that. Maketh lifts her chin.] You questioned my methods. I corrected you. That is all, soldier.

[The last part is almost shouted, Maketh's eyes wide and furious. This cannot go on, she must maintain order and discipline above all else. She was weak in Lothal and again here. Well, not again. Preventative measures will be taken. Maketh turns back to the wall of bottles, still trembling with useless rage.]

[The command leaves Lilith taken aback, enough that it’s visibly overtaking the anger in her posture and her expression. She stops short, blinking dumbly. For a moment, she sees Roland standing where Maketh is: the same old militaristic air, the same sensibility. The same innate talent at driving Lilith completely up a wall.

She’d have punched Roland for something like this. But they’d walked through hell together, been through the wringer with little to show for it but a few new scars. She and Roland were comrades, friends-- more than friends, in her own wishful thinking-- but she barely knows Maketh Tua.

Punching probably won’t help. She couldn’t bring herself to actually hit Maketh, anyway.]

I-- [Her shoulders have sloped lower to accompany the crestfallen look on her face, but they square right back up as she stands tall, the cooling fury of her words spoken to Maketh’s back.]

I am not your soldier. You don’t command anyone here, either. Get with the program and get the stick out of your ass already.

[That gets a reaction, though not one that Maketh enjoys. She flinches, shoulders going tight, hand stuck in mid-reach for the next bottle, and shaking. She's shaking all over, suddenly. Lilith isn't her soldier, no, never was, never will be, bounty-hunter to the end. Not that it matters, because her soldiers are dead just like she was. Twice, now. once for treason and once because she'd been too weak, too fucking soft to deal with her own problems without involving anyone else.

Like now, really.

Fix your posture, soldier.

Maketh tries, clasping her hands tight behind her back. Stand at attention, eyes straight ahead, face blank. Just like that.

Discipline is God, her instructors used to say. Learn to worship. There used to be comfort in that.]

If you're not going to help, then get out.

[This was a bad idea from the start.]

[She could've taken it if Maketh had just screamed at her. She's equipped for that: for teeth and claws, for lashing back and giving worse than she'd gotten. As it is, the simple statement is too much for Lilith to bear. She opens her mouth, but the words die on her lips. For once, there's no cutting remark or snide comment there.

There is no flash of color in her eyes or along the tattoos on her arm, but her hands curl into fists and, imperceptibly, tremble.]

Waste of my time. [she mumbles under her breath. It's half-hearted, without any pushing force behind it. Her voice even quakes.

Lilith presses her lips together in a tight line, turns quickly on her heel, and with heavy steps heads right out the door.]

Edited (doubled my icon ack) 2016-03-12 04:04 (UTC)

[Yes, well. She's correct, Maketh thinks. A waste of time. Clearly.

She goes back to the bottles, in the end. Someone must.]

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01 | voice

[text]

voice;

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voice;

[action]

action!!

action forever

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*been carbonated, oops

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